


Rebuilding

by bravelikealady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Other, ask meme, number 5, oops a modern au, over a bottle of beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravelikealady/pseuds/bravelikealady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Sansa, a house, but where is home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuilding

“I’ve been married like 100 times. I know things.”

 

Jon stopped reading and looked up at Sansa, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed at him, unwavering even in the midst of hammering, drilling, the cacophony of construction that Jon found unnerving, especially in the hands of men who used to work for Bolton, Stannis’s leftovers, men who once took coin from Peter.

 

“That… that doesn’t even work for this situation, kiddo. Nice try, though.”

 

“I’ll remember this,” she said, a menacing nod punctuating her words, and Jon gave a half smile as she crossed back to the picnic table. 

 

They were kidding, but they weren’t, and that may as well be their own house words. Sure, Winter is Coming, but winter is _ here _ , half their estate was being rebuilt at warp speed to try to provide enough shelter for it, so for the time being, House Stark: We’re Kidding But We’re Not. Sansa wanted to be more involved because this was all she had. Jon knew he couldn’t really understand it: his love for Winterfell had always been held at arm’s length, the accidentally helpful coping mechanism of being illegitimate, but for Sansa this was the fairy tale she rose from, and the only fairy tale she could hope to have again. He just didn’t want her in the middle of these men. He heard the things they said about her, and he supposed she was even more beautiful now than she was as a child, and much warmer than his-  _ her _ father- and mother had been, but the way the men said it… he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. And he knew that really, deep down, running the household would be more her speed and she’d be happier for it.

 

He finished his glance at the day to the day and passed it back to Sam, who had proven to be one hell of a boss man to these fringe workers, and crossed to Sansa, sighing, leaning on her elbow at the picnic table, her breath making a little ghost mask over her face. Jon stopped a few paces back, brushing his hair back, and making his face a mocking apology, until Sansa, rolling her eyes, laughed and said, “Won’t you have a seat, Jon?”

 

Jon opened a cooler that no one had bothered to feel with ice in this temperature, took out two beers, and sat down across from her. He tried to twist the top, to no avail, and Sansa laughed as he resigned to propping it against the picnic table and hammering on it with his hand. He popped the first, then the second, taking much longer than he would’ve liked, not helped by the fit of giggles this had broken Sansa, and then himself, into. He took a gulp from his beer then slid one over to Sansa.

 

“I’m more of a lady of wine,” she spoke lowly, making her best “ew, gross” face.

 

“Drink it.”

 

“Jon…”

 

“DRINK. IT.”

 

“Geez, geez, okay…. So tough, so manly.”

 

He smiled at her as she took a sip, and then another, and then a real swallow, giving a shrug and a nod, as if her mild approval of the beer was admitting she lost this battle. She sat it down and gave it a long “aaaaah”, the kind they’d see on terrible commercials growing up. 

 

_ Forever ago. We’re all grown up now. _

 

“Hey,” he said.

 

“Hey yourself,” she gave back.

 

“I… I want you involved… and I know it’s important to you, I-”

 

“Can we just not? Sorry, but… can we just not do it? I know. I get it. I’m tired of talking. I just… I want it down. I want it all done, I know I’m home, but… I want it to really be home. The sooner the better, okay?”

 

“The sooner the better. I know. I’m doing everything I can, Sam’s working them as hard as he can, and every day, he’s sending out for more help. A lot of people do want to help us, Sansa… I’m just… careful.”

 

“I think I used up all my careful,” she murmured, looking at the bottle, trying to perfectly tear off the label, something to do with her hands, somewhere to keep her eyes. Jon knew this habit by now.

 

“Hey,” he said, finishing off his bottle.”

 

“Hey,” she said, looking up from her meaningless chore.

 

“I love you.”

 

Sansa smiled. 

  
“Ew.”


End file.
